Same Bat-Time (Bat-Catcher II)
by DarkVampire111
Summary: Theoretically free from the asylum, Brooklyn Wayne is a touch worried Arkham might have followed her out. Batwoman's enemies keep surfacing in Brooklyn's realm of influence, like Arkham never lets people go. Sooner or later Brooklyn's strange new friends will get the Bat killed. Fem!Bruce
1. Chapter 1

**Same Bat-Time, Same Bat-Channel**

 **DC and Marvel involved in ownership, not me!**

And here we have a continuation of the Brooklyn Wayne saga! This is based mainly on animated series stuff and comics but it could incorporate movies too, I think.

* * *

Batwoman listened to the thunder roll on and on like the waves of the churning waters below her perch. The stone monsters in the tower stood watch alongside her as water beat against the ground endlessly outside her tiny sanctuary. The sharp crack of lightning split the sky in too bright a light and shook the ground with the following boom. It was quite the storm, perhaps enough to keep even the criminals inside for a while. That would be advantageous to be certain since Brooklyn Wayne had an appearance to make in two hours.

Steppin forward and spreading her cape, letting the current of electricity turn the material into a glider - perhaps not wise in a storm like this, but faster - she let gravity and air guide her all the way to the ground. The rain beat against her, reminding her to be thankful her variety of tech was waterproof as well as bullet resistant.

A gasp to her left made her head jerk to the side, feet instinctively spreading into a fight ready stance. The crash of thunder sounded more like a shot and it took effort not to jump, not to snatch the person by the neck in response. It was an old man using the building to wait out the worst of the storm; he might have been homeless or he might have been just another person walking home from work, it was hard to tell in this portion of town.

The man huffed an embarrassed laugh, thumping a hand over his heart, "Thought you were one of those demons from above coming to life for just a second."

"Perhaps I am." The corners of her mouth twitched up just slightly, just for a minute before she swept away to the Batmobile and jumped inside with the push of a button. That was what the Bat was, inhuman, made from stone, a protector that watched in silence.

* * *

Brooklyn Wayne swayed her hips as she walked through the crowd, silk dress clinging in all the right places. The dress was very fashionable but she honestly thought it could just as easily have passed for a long, classy nightgown a woman might keep around for the first few months of marriage when she was still trying to impress rather than the tattered nightshirt that would likely appear a year into the marriage. It was just the sort of thing Brooke would be expected to wear to a party. Sex appeal was everything in the world of young socialites. The shawl she kept around her shoulders did a lot to tone down the hints that she was ready to fall into bed at a moments notice but modesty was not the reason she kept it on, hiding a few scars and a deep fresh cut was.

Feathers, huge and long adorned the center of most of the tables and were a frequent addition to many of the stylish, lavishly extravagant masks settled atop the faces around the room. The identities were easy enough to pick out even with those additions. They all had signature rings, jewelry, clothing, mannerisms, or an annoying laugh that made it simple to tell who they were. Brooke's own mask covered her entire face because she was not foolish enough to only cover half of it when she spent too many nights with the only skin showing under her nose to her chin.

The colors in the room were loud and obnoxious. It resembled Mardigras more than some high-class masquerade as far as the looks and horribly shiny colors. The only difference was how expensive it all had been. If people started exchanging tacky beaded necklaces she was decidedly leaving, image or not.

Even with the storm outside, she felt it would have been more pleasant to have remained on that rooftop. It was stuffy inside thanks to all the hot air coming from puffed up windbags that knew more than every other puffed-up windbag in the room. The harpies, young and old, clustered in their little flocks, sharpening their painted claws and clacking their lipstick stained beaks. Crows, magpies, vultures, every last one of them. As a Wayne, she knew how to fit in with the latex bodies and the surgically enhanced smiles, knew how to stay just out of reach of a sharp beak and long claws but it was draining.

As a businesswoman, she could swim with the sharks and killer whales as well but she hated being near when there was a hint of blood in the water even if it was rarely her blood. Those men in pressed suits and sharp smiles made her sick, worse was if they flirted. They all thought they were a rare find, a splendid catch even though they were all cookie-cutter copies of each other. No original thoughts. Even when they considered themselves rebellious all they were doing was the same stunts a million others had done before them.

The inner Bat screamed and raged every time Brooke attended because half the people in the room were just as bad as the criminals she locked up on the streets. These criminals dressed better and burned money, but they were crooked and vial. Many of them were cruel for the sake of it, sociopaths that were given freedom to move because they could buy their way out of trouble. Their children, entitled teenagers, and early twenty-somethings were even more frightening. Not one of them cared about anything other than the bottom line and what might benefit them personally. They made her sick.

She took a tall glass of champagne from a passing trey even though she had no intention of drinking it. Reputation dictated that she have something bubbly and alcoholic in hand at all times in order to fit the mold. Truthfully she hated anything that might make her even slightly fuzzy. Having a haze in her mind had been unwelcome since she took on her alter ego but since her time being fed drugs not long enough ago she hated that lack of control all the more. In a place like this, even a momentary lapse in judgment could be deadly in many ways.

Brooke often did not like her peers. They were inferior to her eyes a good eighty percent of the time as far as she was concerned. There were a few rare and grand people that she could stand or even liked. They were hard to find but they did exist. Those were the ones she felt protective over and did her best with her considerable influence, to ensure they were as protected from the poison as she could get them.

A long head of shocking red hair caught her eye and she found herself veering that direction without thought. She slid easily into the seat beside the woman in the long velvet green gown, mask secured over her face, but it was not disguised enough that Batwoman could not spot blindfolded. The slight green tint to the skin and the build of the woman would have been all she needed. Brooke spent enough time with her to know her on sight too, even without the face.

"Here to remind everyone to go Green?" Brooke asked playfully as she pretended to sip champagne. It felt awkward to face Poison Ivy as Wayne again after far too many instances where she indebted herself to the woman. Batwoman had no debt, theoretically, but Brooklyn did. Arkham was not her proudest moment but all her enemies witnessed the entire ordeal. The Wayne blood was proud and that hangup had not skipped a generation if anything she was worst of all.

Pamela tilted her head for a side glance before she shrugged, "Couldn't hurt." She turned in the chair to fully face her companion then, "And don't you clean up with a flair, Wayne? A big step up from all that gray I'd say."

"You don't look too bad either." She wanted to get to the real reason the lady was at the party but she was not Batwoman so direct was not the correct style. "Anything I can do to help ease your transition into the colorful world? We don't have doctors asking us how we feel out here, generally speaking. I can tell you to stay away from the caviar tonight, for starters, it tastes a bit off so it's hardly worth the risk."

Isley chuckled, reaching up to delicately slide her mask further down her nose so she could see better, "It's rather good to see you, Brooke! I missed your wit... when you weren't chasing dust particles, that is."

Brooke clinked her glass with the other woman's, "Good times! What brings you over here anyway?" This was so hard! She wanted her mask to hide behind! This woman had seen her hugging the porcelain throne every night for months while the drugs made her worse and worse.

"Would you believe the decor?" Ivy smirked.

"I am not sure anyone came for that. Though I think over half came to partake in the open bar, if I were to make an educated guess. Some of those people have been at the bar all night judging by the covert glares from the wait staff. The guy on the far left stole a bottle from behind the counter about ten minutes ago and refused to give it back."

"Drunk and rich! A simply enticing combination if ever there was one! Think you could point any out that might be less intoxicated? I'm in the market for a man. I was thinking I could go for a guy that likes long walks in forests rather than a beach." Ivy leaned closer, conspiratorial, "Handsome, smart, not utterly insufferable would be nice too, if you could point me at them. Oh, and funny, but not too funny. I'm not generally a fan of clowns."

Brooke allowed herself to look highly skeptical, "You're looking for a date? Or..." she nearly said 'mark' but cut herself off.

Ivy nodded, "Normally, I would not have considered it. I always thought the rich were all brainless, egocentric, weak, forest burning jerks, but you are rich and I like you, so not all rich people have to be bad."

What was she supposed to say to that? "You escaped, didn't you?"

Ivy's laugh was sultry and low though honest enough, "No, no! It's totally on the level, honey! I'm cured." Somehow it feels like she had heard that song and dance before but again, what could she really say?

"And you're looking for the domestic life?" Brooke daintily slid the mask to one side so she could face Ivy more directly since it felt like that kind of conversation.

Pam eyed her, studying a little more intently that was comforting, "Something like that." There was a moment's pause before, "I guess I wanted to see what it would be like, just once, to live like that. Rich people are eccentric, they like to spice up their boring lives with some danger so they might be the only crowd that would let me in."

Not exactly a bad observation. This was Gotham they were talking about. The low class consisted most often of desperate crime rings so they would only look at her for what she might be able to do for them, want her as close to a gang member. Middle-class people balanced on a thin line and a wrong step would mean a fall in a place they cared not be forced into so they would hold a grudge, would never forget who she was because they could not afford to risk someone like her shattering what they managed to scrape together in the world. The rich were expected to have strange hobbies and it was not at all incorrect to think they enjoyed the element of risk. The rich could afford to gamble the way no one else could. She recalled a situation when a couple of bored socialites pulled Cobblepot into their circle just for the fun of running the risk of what he could do to them or their friends; stupid, and it backfired, but a stunt like that surprised no one.

The filthy rich had nowhere to go other than down but they could buy their way out of danger and they knew it. Once you were high enough nothing mattered because it would take an awful lot to shoot them out of the sky even if a few managed to bring them out of the clouds. Staying afloat was a game and one that they knew they would probably keep winning. A rich husband might just be a chance for someone like Ivy to live a real life. A rich man could buy her into his crowd even if many did not initially find his little gamble amusing. If Ivy played it right she actually could make a comfortable nest for herself and she was smart and spunky enough to handle what was thrown at her.

If Ivy played it right she actually could make a comfortable nest for herself and she was smart and spunky enough to handle what was thrown at her. It should have worried her more that she believed Poison Ivy so readily and that she was so quick to acquiesce. It should send chills up her spine to realize that she wanted it to be true, that she wanted a little danger at the typical party, wanted Pam to find that elusive happy ending and make it all her own. She wanted to watch something flower, so to speak, from something that should be twisted and wrong, but like Gotham, could turn into a beautiful thing.

"I don't generally play matchmaker," Brooke said into her glass, remembering at the last second to fake the sip rather than drink.

Steel Blue eyes took a quick inventory of the room, mentally making a few lists. Ivy asked if she could point her in the right direction and she kind of wanted to. She did not know what kind of person that made Brooke Wayne that she would help Ivy find a man... but Pam couldn't be all bad, she was human enough while she was in Arkham, so there had to be good in her somewhere. Did that mean she deserved a chance, a real life if she could land it? If she did not believe people could change, never tried to help them, what was she even fighting for? The point of everything she did was to save people, even if it was from themselves.

"I might be able to give you some hints... so long as you promise me something..."

Pam grinned wide, "I won't kill any of them if that's what you're worried about. I won't tell anyone you helped me either."

"...try to find the one that makes you happiest." Brooke propped her chin on her hand, "In this crowd, it can take a while to find a diamond past the sludge. Some are good and some just play good. People here were taught to be hard, hard to get to know, hard to reach, hard to get close to. You might not guess it, but rich people have major trust issues so what you see initially might not be the truth. You have to dig till you find the real person under..." she slid the mask back around and into place.

Ivy blinked at her for a moment but then smiled, "I can see that."

"And yeah, don't kill any of them, that's a good thing too." Brooke made herself chuckle even though she did not really feel it, not with things as they were.

Most likely she was playing traitor but she could not decide which side she was betraying. Her inner Bat had been shocked into silence some time ago and she was not sure where that decision would ultimately land, probably not the way Brooklyn would like. The debt she owed Isley was hers, not the Bat's.

"What if they're really annoying?" Ivy was teasing her openly and that was a strange feeling.

"I'm still going to have to vote no. The annoying ones have their place. They are fun to humiliate, I know from experience."

Pam's laugh was low and quietly amused, "I bet you do. A girl like you, in a man's world, has to know how to knock them down."

She picked a guy she honestly thought might fit with Ivy. He had two sons, still young, but that did not seem to bother the redhead in the slightest. Pam looked almost more alive at the prospect. Happiness, hope for a future yet to be plotted must look like that. God help her, she believed Poison Ivy, and she was making an effort to help her get what she wanted. Brooke swept around the room, skirt dragging along sensually, and lead her former sloe-eyed roommate right up to the man. It was not hard to get things moving when she had experience in manipulating the flow of conversation and she had Ivy to help.

They oddly worked well together. If things worked out positively she would not mind seeing the other woman at parties like this one. She already knew she would be one voice on the side for Ivy in the crowds of vultures. Ivy could handle herself the way many would not be able to.

Maybe she could redeem someone as Brooke rather than the Bat just this once.

* * *

Batwoman dragged Crane into the GCPD around two in the morning. Both of them were a hint or three on the wrong side of worse-for-wear. Without that horrible mask, he seemed more human by far even if he was stark raving mad. By in large, he looked like a monster with it on, nothing resembling a human. She could only hope she pulled off the mask so well. It always came as something of a shock when she fought him, the way he could switch from cunningly placid to livewire in seconds. The man was like fighting a strange mixture of a tiger and a snake, or maybe an owl. His shrieks were easy enough to hear even after she wound her way back into the night when she slipped out Jim's window.

In the morning she found herself crawling to see Gordon, running on absolutely no sleep and without a mask besides the Wayne name. Who could say what possessed her to do it? Why she walked in with a few believable lies and reasons to visit while simply hoping to see the Halloween reject and check on him. Something likely as wild as that man's insanity drove her to the station but she could not deny it if only it would make the nagging voice grow silent. The voice was not the Bat, it was Brooklyn, the one born in Arkham, the foolish little creature that trusted easily and saw a friend in those most detrimental to her ongoing lifestyle.

Sentimentality, even a mild sort was really so dangerous. That wide-eyed innocent girl that died in an alleyway had been reborn, only probably even worse, for she knew the hazards, knew her own future and did not fear nor care. The Bat within found the new addition highly disturbing and Brooke agreed. Crane had nearly gotten her with his gas once during the night because a very untimely flashback of watching a horror movie with him distracted her.

Jim led her from his office when she requested coffee and it is then she ended up seeing the spindly man that made his home in nightmares. Big, strong officers flanked him, glaring and grim as he yelled and cursed, wriggling like a worm. They escorted his writhing figure down the hall and she drifted to the edge in order to watch, cup off coffee gripped in her palms, warm and grounding.

"I am the master of fear!" Jonathan bellowed, that broken glass, gravel voice pitched too high, "The lord of despair! Cower before me and witness terror!"

She found she could not resist the temptation as he came near to speak to him, and she waved a hand, a smile she felt sure she might have worn while on those drugs eased onto her face, "Hi, Professor Crane."

The vicious snarl untwisted from his face to leave it looking that same sort of human she struggled to reconcile, a smile sliding onto his face, "Good day, child!"

The enraged scowl seemed more at home on his face, she would say, because it is easier for her to look upon than a more gentle thing like the smile he offered. Something about the asylum and spending time within seemed to create a bond. It equalized everyone because they had a common ground: insanity. Take about a club no one would want to join! Making friends at the cost of ones mind? But there he was, smiling. It was not one of his threatening ones, just a normal friendly curl of lips. It shook her more than anything should have. They could easily have crawled onto a couch again and watched another movie with a smile like that.

"You are looking far better, I see!" He cocked his head just slightly in that owl aspect she often thought of with him, "Color's back in your skin."

Brooke nodded, unsure what she had to offer as a response.

Just as soon as his guards twitched the smile was lost and he returned again to his raving, "Worship me, fools! Worship me!" They dragged him away but he continued the rant loudly until he was out of earshot.

Gordon sighed, leaned against the doorframe, and glanced at her, "I think he's getting better."

She handed the cup back to him with a grin, "Thank you for the coffee, I needed it."

Jim moved with her when she made to leave, "How bad was it in there? I mean... really?"

There were times it was so obvious that he had a daughter all his own. Sometimes it made her uncomfortable that she could recognize the same looks he gave Barbara Gordan as ones he would occasionally give her. It was almost frightening when she noticed the "fatherly worry" look when he warned Batwoman to be careful. He was too kind-hearted for their city, he honestly was. He cared. It had to have been hard on him when they locked her away, maybe as hard as it had been on Alfred.

Brooke made her eyes widen in innocence, "I couldn't say. I think half the time I was hallucinating."

"And the other half?" He pressed, not seeming to believe her innocent act entirely.

Again, she had no idea why she tipped her hand, maybe just that look in his eyes, but she could not take it back, "Crane and I watched horror movies on the couch when I was not too sick to hold down water or too lost in the burning need to chase pretty lights. It was generally when I was too exhausted to move after around twelve hours of being incapable of holding still that he would turn the television to some obscure channel that played movies like that. Having been a doctor once, I suppose he knew when the downward swing would hit me. Everyone in Arkham learned my schedule as well as my caretakers."

"Horror movies? With Scarecrow? Sounds horrible." He pulled a face, "I find it hard to believe he never tried to kill you."

She grinned, propping open the door, "Ivy would not let him." And then she skipped away, leaving him with his puzzled expression.

* * *

The screen was bright and flashy as the news bulletin flashed with headlines before a little blonde reporter began to excitedly babble. It took Brooke all of a few minutes to find a suspect in her considerable list of known offenders. The trouble lay in her lack of desire for it to be true. A well-known competitor to Wayne Tech had been racing them to complete a project for the better part of a year. A healthy portion of her people believed the plans had been stolen from Wayne Enterprise to begin with but there was no proof. The lab for the new line of prototype sonic technology in question had apparently been blown to shreds very late at night. The newscaster said it was an accident with a water heater but Brooke's rather overly developed sense for trouble was running on alert.

She had been suspicious even before the Bat took a look and found some very typical traits of Harvey's people being the culprits. Rather than turning over the evidence as would be Batwoman's general Moda Operandi, she hid it away in the cave. After a good few hours of staring at the rock wall, she waltzed herself up to the mansion and began to dress according to the fashion of her intended party. All it had required was a few clicks on the computer to find what she sought, managing to track him down was the simple part. Strolling into the Iceberg Lounge as Brooklyn Wayne, dressed only to proverbially kill rather than actually toating weaponry the way instinct screamed she should when entering enemy space, that was the challenge.

The Lounge was overdone to the point of being tacky the way many restaurants were. It was a common mistake most places that were not real deep pockets, only pretended to be, made. Things were crafted to look expensive without actually being quality. Things glittered and winked but the crystal was fake just like the gold plating. The fountains were plaster, not marble the way they were intended to look. The chandeliers were harvested off old buildings. She did not want to think about the seating.

Penguin was easy enough to spot along with many, many other of Batwoman's enemies. All her muscles wanted to cord and knot instinctively but she refused to allow it in her posture. Her eyes stayed fixed and she worked to keep her expression light and without hints of any form of concern.

It had been some time since she saw her old friend since leaving Arkham. His escape had been only a few weeks prior to the explosion. The fluttering of nerves was an uncomfortable sensation in her stomach. The nerves and simple apprehension made her head want to spin. Seeing an old friend turned enemy was far from easy with the protection of a mask, without one it was like being the fish invited to dinner.

Her expression did not betray her skittering heart when she slid into a booth beside Harvey Dent very blithely. She sat on his good side, the white half of his suit and tie mostly because that was the side in front of her but also because she hoped it would bring out Harvey rather than Two-Face. It increased her chances and she had never been anything less than strategic.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye but did not seem exactly surprised to see her. He took a drink of his bourbon and seemed content to let her strike up the conversation.

"Tell me you didn't bomb my competition, Harvey, huh? If you did, do you think you could lie to me and say I'm crazy?"

He did not turn his head, keeping his good side to her and that made it easier to see the slight smirk just before he flipped the coin to decide something she is unaware of, "I might have read something about that mishap at their factory. I heard no one got hurt though. Tough luck for them on that project, I guess, right?"

Her eyes started to sting and she had no idea why but she blinked it away viciously. Facing him had as herself had been easier drugged she would admit. He avoided her now like he could not stand to be around her like she was poison. Arkham was the first time they really had the chance to be anything close to friends again. It stung something deep within her she hoped she killed off some time ago.

She did something she had not done since they were maybe preteens and she tipped her head to rest on his shoulder. He tensed considerably but he did not pull away and even relaxed after a moment, "How about you promise my competitor's luck doesn't have anything to do with you from now on?"

Harvey was quiet for a while before he flipped the coin, "No promises." He told her quietly, voice rough as always.

Brooke knew full well she should be able to find it in herself to be angry with him but she couldn't scrape it together. Her arms coiled around his to give her more room to really lean on him. Being in Arkham reminded her of what she lost the day Harvey became Two-Face. A bit of distance had prickled at them when Harvey had taken such a strong dislike to Batwoman even if he had no idea she took that a bit personally; he was one of the few people in the world she craved approval from even if she never admitted it even to herself. But once Two-Face surfaced it was severed suddenly and absolutely.

She lost her closest friend and she lost around half of her hope for Gotham's future. It was selfish and painful to admit the loss of her friend had been the harder part to accept. As much as she wished she could be as grand and good as Batwoman or Gordon, Brooklyn had to privately admit that she was much less than that. Truthfully she was less than Harvey Dent used to be as well. If she was a better person she would have stormed in as the Bat and taken him in with those bits of evidence she found. Still, she owed him one for that information she knew he supplied to Dick that got her out of Arkham.

This was another debt she owed, one that went a hundred times deeper than any other she had. She hugged his strong arm a bit tighter, pushing away a stray memory of his fists, then another of him scooping her up in Arkham when she was too weak to make it to her room to be sick.

"What if I say pretty please?" She countered, and she could feel the rumble of his laugh.

"Are we ten again?" He asked with a slight smirk.

"Would that be so terrible?"

She felt the shift in his posture and she knew he was slipping away.

"You shouldn't be here. You look too much like a mark."

"Worried about me?"

He did not answer.

"You'd protect me." She offered with a grin.

He turned so she could see both sides, "Would I?"

She looked him dead on, "Yes." She cocked her head and smiled, "We're friends." And yes, that was why he destroyed her competition and hurt no one. It was why she had yet to say a word about what she learned. She still saw him as a friend even if he was also her foe. This was Harvey, a complicated man that fit into both Brooklyn's life and Batwoman's. Nothing would ever be easy but perhaps half of her could get half of him. It would be better than nothing to even get a piece of that shattered relationship back. Part of her knew, in shame, that she would do quite a lot for that. Arkham had reminded her of dangerous, dangerous things. It made her remember those feelings she locked away so very carefully. It broke more in her than she cared to admit, but it freed that selfish part of her she wished did not exist. The part of her that wanted her friend back had been revived. She wanted to feel more than just pain when she thought of him.

There would always be pain in anything connected to Harvey but if she could only get a piece of happiness from it the pain would be worth it. She missed him, she really did.

"I... missed you, Harvey." The honesty, the rawness she never meant to show must have shocked him.

He jerked out of her hold as if she burned him and she struggled not to let show the stab of pain that sent through the open part of her that still wanted to believe. Something must have shown, probably in her posture if not her face. His expression fell, perhaps like hers had, and something softer replaced it. Harvey leaned back in the next breath, dropping his thick muscled arm over her shoulders. "I guess, since you're here, you might as well order something."

Brooke tried not to be obvious about the way she snuggled into his hold and simply rested on him like they were fifteen and could care less what anyone thought of them. While her smiles were far from blinding the way Joker's would be, the little upturns of her mouth had always been enough for Harvey to read. He was her friend, the closest she had to a family other than Alfred. Shamefully, she would take any crumbs of that he would offer her and be absolutely thankful. It seemed like she used to be a lot stronger before Arkham.

Maybe they both had been stronger before her stay in the asylum. Or maybe they had always been weak and starved for those tiny crumbs but had forgotten to think of it before. Neither of them had much left anymore. They were different people, they battled tooth and nail to get where they were and they lost everything and lost a little more every day. Such were life's cruel twists.

They could forget for one night, just be younger for a while until the Bat needed to surface and Two-Face had his day again. It would never stop and she knew that the same way she knew the sun would set over the horizon. Arkham had been dangerous because it reminded her of happiness, and happiness was a difficult allure to shake. Reality was harsh at the best of times and some tiny part of her longed for the oblivion. One evening, she told herself, just one evening, then she would return those feelings to the cage.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: Funny thing about this story is that Bat-Catcher was going to be a one-shot, yet here we still are! I have no excuses for my terrible actions and I'm not remotely sorry. Maybe my excuse could be that I keep writing this stuff while I'm really sleepy and should be sleeping but I'm writing instead like an idiot.

* * *

The shrill trill of the phone on her bedside table was much too loud and Brooklyn jumped, throwing the covers away from her body, struggling to attain a fighting stance while still in bed until the truth of the situation dawned on her. Untangling the blankets from her arm was the main challenge, but she managed and swiped the phone up. The caller-id was unhelpful with nothing better to offer than it being a local call.

"Hello?" Her voice was more snappy than she would normally allow but she was entirely too tired for the morning.

She had been out all night chasing down Joker's hiding places after he escaped. Once dawn arrived she was forced to call of her search until darkness arrived once again, but she was more tired than usual. No doubt the frustration had been the cause of the added weariness. She despised coming up emptyhanded. Of course, the nights before that had been dedicated to locating the escaped Riddler while her days were swamped with the ramifications of being the only one left with a technology that suddenly had a great deal of attention. Everyone wanted in the new Wayne tech and that meant everyone wanted to meet with her and talk to her and generally hound her every breath.

Batwoman had been coming up empty handed every night in both the Riddler's case and Joker's. It was making her crazy and that had a lot to do with lack of sleep too. Even when she could sleep, she mostly couldn't. This had been a breaking point when her body insisted on sleep and she could not refuse.

She was too tired for early morning calls! She had been awake for seventy-eight hours and some before falling into bed.

"Heya, Brooke!" A very cheery, familiar voice rolled sweetly over the line.

The frown coiled tightly on her brows eased inexplicably, "Harley?"

"Yep, it's me! You're old wingmate!" The girl sounded so chipper it should be illegal when it was so early.

Her first reaction was the instinct to snarl a question of why the girl was calling but she forced it back, "Hi..."

"How's life on the free side been treating you?" So much cheer!

"Fine." Brooke was not awake enough for a better answer which meant she should not be on the phone with an enemy.

"That's good! We miss you around here though." Harley sounded wistful and that might be a bad sign, "Say, I was wondering, do you know anybody that could make a delivery of a medical nature to Arkham?"

Her heart rate sped up instantly, "Are you hurt?" The alarm in her voice was real which should shock her.

"Oh, no, no! Don't worry! I'm fine, everything is fine!" Quin assured her.

The tightened muscles in Brook's shoulders let go with that, "Then why do you need medical supplies?"

"Ah, well, more like one particular medicine. Nothing special, just a case or two of chloroform."

The muscles in Brooke's jaw twitched, "Why would you call me this early in the morning with a question like that?"

The confused frown was almost audible over the line, "It's nine-thirty."

That was early for someone that got to bed at seven! "Why exactly do you need chloroform at this time of the morning?"

"Well, I've got this project, you see! It's just a little something I was working on to pass the time. Gotta have a hobby, right?"

"Would that project have anything to do with Ivy getting released a month ago and Joker escaping?"

There was a pause, "Well, I guess you know why I'm bored then."

Brooke fell back into her soft pillows with a sigh of exasperation, closing her eyes while she let Harley ramble on in an attempt to convince her to help her with this nondescript plan that had nothing to do with escaping Arkham. The former psychiatrist could indeed make a case for herself when she wanted, not that Brooke was fully listening. The girl had a lot of potential, too bad it was put to crime. Harleen could have been someone with a few other choices. Maybe if she had other friends, good friends, before Joker got to spread his madness to her things would have been different.

"When you get out..." Brooke interrupted another elaborate, rambled excuse, "because we both know you will, we should have coffee." She was well past tired and her mind felt like cotton. She should not be on the phone.

She could just visualize the sudden smile on Harley's face, could hear it in her voice, "You buying?"

* * *

Brooklyn knew something had to be wrong when she exited the private elevator on the first floor from her office only to find Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock waiting in the lobby. Their eyes dart up from their focus on the receptionist. Susan, she believed was her name, had a phone pressed to her ear but upon seeing the boss exit, placed it back in its cradle. Must have been calling up in the office to get her to come down.

The grim faces and worried eyes all focused on Brooke and it was entirely disconcerting. Bullock never had anything good to say about her, not as a Wayne or as Batwoman, but even his mouth was set in a firmer line. If anything particularly terrible happened, she should already know of it. Unless they somehow found out about what Harvey did and knew, somehow, that she did not turn over evidence. Or maybe, if anyone reported seeing her at the Iceberg Lounge with Harvey, they came to the conclusion that she hired an old friend to take care of her business for her. That she supposed she could see. The facts might look a little dark if taken that direction. If she did not know the truth she might suspect herself of that as well.

Just what she needed! Though they would be decidedly hard pressed to find any sort of proof. Even in public opinion, she doubted she would be effectively convicted. Most people would not even blink at it even if they thought her guilty of sabotage. Such matters of business dealings were almost commonplace and moderately expected to various degrees.

The automatic doors slid shut behind her and she smiled for her audience, swaying her way over to them as if she had not a care in the world, "Why, hello, gentlemen! What may I do for you? I assume you are here to see me?" She would play coy until she had some idea what was happening.

Jim reached a hand up to rub the back of his neck nervously, "Well, we have reason to believe you are in some danger, Brooke."

"What kind of danger?"

Jim's eyes darted around the room as if he expected to spot ominous listening devices or random ninja hanging from the ceiling. "We should probably talk in private."

If he really wanted private it might be better not to talk at Wayne tower at all. She was tempted to take them to the mansion so they could all be comfortable. She did not care to return to her office so she stepped past them and waved them to follow. They could take it to the station if that would make the older man feel better. They could talk outside, though it had snowed a bit early in the year and it would be chilly. She really should take them back to her office but she did not want to backtrack just in case someone caught her and held her longer with some terrible business proposition.

What she should do was take them to the little building where the food court was. She had the built several years ago to give employees somewhere to get away from the desk and the stuffy atmosphere to eat lunch or have coffee in peace. It should be quiet enough for them to be left alone at the current time of day. Most people went home around five or six and it was seven when she left the office. They could get coffee because no one would refuse to open for the owner, even if the place was probably cleaning up for the night.

The snow sounded crisp under her heels when she stepped into it, making her way over a few drifts in order to get where she wanted. The two men followed behind her like hired security. Part of her, in that moment, found it entertaining that the GCPD's Commissioner was her private escort from building to building. Talk about service! If she did not know him, was not friends with him, it really would seem odd. It would seem like she had far too much power.

"Look what we have here!" A theatrical stage whisper made all three jump and swivel their heads in the direction of the speaker.

"Riddler!" Jim barked, like the rebuke of his presence would make it less true.

Brook could not help the way her eyes darted to the figure and then to her essential guards. With them in attendance she could not simply bolt and duck away long enough to secure a costume change. How troublesome! Also troublesome was the audacious timing! Having been ready to go home, she would have been all the more irritated had it not been compounded by her company. She had been looking for the man for weeks without success and he had the nerve to blithely be twirling his cane right on the grounds of her establishment. The irony was entirely permeated through the situation.

Moreover, looking at him was painful after seeing so much white over the ground. There really was just entirely too much green! That striking green suit, hat, and mask were so harsh against the backdrop of snow that it actually made her want to squint at the man.

Riddler put up one gloved hand, the green leather creaking when he lifted one finger, eye alighting on her, "Riddle me this!"

For a second she wondered in a few terrified stray thoughts if he was asking her because he knew who she really was; just because they were in Arkham; or because she is with Gordon and Bullock. She dared not even consider the first option because it would be simply too horrible if he not only knew but also revealed her in front of the police. Jim would keep her secret, she knew he would, but Bullock would shout it to the skies.

Just at the moment words would have been leaving his lips, a perfectly shaped ball of snow hit directly between his eyes, covering his mask and splattering nicely over his entire face, "I've heard that one before." Joker commented like he was bored, tossing another nice sized ball of snow between his hands.

Brooke's shoulders slumped. Joker. Right in front of her. And she could not possibly get to her tools.

"You need a new act!" Harley chirps happily, actively making a nice stack of ready balls of snow with honestly impressive speed.

Her shoulders dropped a fraction more. It looked like Harley was freshly sprung as well. Joker either decided to go get her or she slipped out on her own. Three escaped prisoners literally right in front of her. Batwoman should be so lucky! But Brooke? Oh, the irony!

Riddler sputtered with sheer indignation while he swiped at his face.

It is more than a little sad that she did not notice Nygma coming, but to miss Joker and Harley sneaking around another side was an absolute disgrace! Moreover, why were they at Wayne tower? What is going on and why are her enemies converging in one place while she is not in any position to run and get her suit? What angle can she spin from her position as Brooke?

Bullock drew his gun, swinging it between the three targets without seeming to know where he should hold it. Jim's brows simply fall, his face morphing into something of a stunned resignation that this is just not going to be his night. Brooke can read his mind, she is fairly sure. It is Gotham so it should be no surprise at all. Why would the villains ever make it easy and appear one at a time rather than swarming when all the Commissioner has is a billionaire and Bullock at the ready? Why would Gotham ever be different? Poor man.

It is either credit to his bravery or the resignation that he does not even seem afraid of the prospect of facing those three essentially alone.

"How dare you!" Nygma's attention has been fully captured by the nonlethal attack.

Joker grinned, "Same way I dare to do most of the things I do! I just do it with so much more flair and originality than you do!"

Riddler turned to them fully, his previous intent utterly forgotten. With enough added confusion she might be able to slip away so that Batwoman could appear.

"Is that so? Well, two can play it that way!" With a flick of Riddler's wrist, he reversed the cane in his hand to very nearly create a golf club and he swung into the snow; surprisingly it worked rather well, sending a very nice shower of snow over the other two. Not as accurate as a snowball but it worked.

Brooke blinked and watched as an impromptu battle of snow developed in front of her. She had no idea how to honestly deal with that and neither did the men with her. It was stunned silence that had fallen over the three while sheer chaos rained from the criminals. Was that, by chance, what Jim came to warn her of? Someone saw the criminals lurking and called the police? After her time in Arkham it was not illogical to think she might be targeted.

That still begged the question of why Riddler was there. He seemed to have come to see her or Jim, but probably her. Why? And why, of all things, were Joker and Harley distracting him from whatever intent he had? Were they distracting him?

Were they... were they there to save her?

If so, to save her from Riddler? Which still answered nothing. It just brought her full circle on the 'why' issue. It was unfair to confuse her when she was tired!

Brooke was too surprised, too lost in thought to adequately dodge the slush bullet that crashed directly between her collarbones, managing to work a healthy portion of snow down the button up portion of her entirely expensive silk shirt. Her jaw dropped as she made to wipe the snow from her person only to notice how extensively it had worked its way in where a lady could not reach publicly. It was freezing and it was in her bra!

All three criminals smirked at her, sniggering like it was a particularly good joke. Oh, now that did it! Never challenge a tired, cold Wayne and expect to receive no payback! She did happen to have both a healthy competitive streak and a temper. Blue eyes nearly flashing, a harsh turn of a smile on her lips, she nearly threw down her bag and coat.

"All right, you three!" She prowled her way forward with no hint of fear, "That is simply going too far! This is my favorite shirt you just ruined!"

Joker tittered and waved his hand dismissively, "A little frozen water never killed anyone..." He tossed a decidedly larger snowball between his purple-clad hands, ignoring Brooke's mumble about the Titanic, but then he responded anyway, "A lot of frozen water... on the other hand..."

Brooke dove as the projectile flew, scooping up hand fulls of snow on her way and sending them through the air with all her speed. Riddler's hat went flying from the blow, Joker caught one to his clown face, and Harley only avoided her own snow bullet by using her already sputtering boss as a shield. Joker was decorated nicely in white in seconds, Riddler caught two in the hind end when he tried to pick up his hat, and Harley cackled madly as she abandoned her human shield for a sturdy Wayne Enterprise sign. Brooke tossed a snow curveball just so and managed to get it to drop right behind the sign, noticing the shriek from the blonde with great pride.

Her victories were moderately short-lived once her opponents recovered from the shock that a rich girl had a mean throw. It spiraled into a mad flurry of snow and snow dust that melts on the skin and sinks into clothing. The cold does not touch those at that soft, pure, child's play war. Of all things, they laugh, helplessly caught up in the absurd, ridiculous circus of a winter night. It's crazy but they know it. They are back in Arkham as equals, without pesky barriers to make them different. Arkham is a living thing that sinks into the blood if one is there long enough. This is different, different because a sane little heiress entered the world of the damned and shattered minds. Something about her smoothed their sharp edges, brought out the innocent fun of things. For a frozen moment, they all remember the innocent insanity, and Brooke is smiling, so they are too.

Brooklyn Wayne has a superpower; she can put up with beasts no one else will. She attracts them because she will look them in the eye and see them, not look through them. There is a difference. She does not fear them or shy away. She tries to understand them as more than monsters and in doing so, something in them responds. Most people would not survive their attention but she does for reasons no one knows.

Gordon watched the spectacle, watched the lunatics laughing, and was startled when he heard a short laugh from Wayne. It startled him because he had heard her laugh but he had never before heard her laugh. It made him realize how seldom she laughed, but also that she never really laughed. Her aim was impressive, enough to make Jim arch one brow rather high. Three targets, all hit dead on, in three seconds. Imagine what she could have done had he handed her something that was not snow! Plus, he never saw her pick up the snow or make snow projectiles until well into the fight. She was fast, moved like the Flash! And she was an only child?

Bullock nudged Gordon, eyeing the insanity with a pained expression, gun still out but just sort of dangling, "You sure those drugs they fed her didn't do anything... permanent?"

They were both so focused on the snowball fight they never even noticed the dark figure retreating to a parked car, but Riddler, Joker, and Harley did. Then again, they knew he was there all along.


	3. Chapter 3

**Same Bat-Time, Same Bat-Channel**

 **Characters Owned by DC**

* * *

The almost hollow thump sounded like it came from outside the bedroom window but more like it was on the wall itself. Brooke cracked one eye back open, glancing at the clock long enough to know she had been asleep for fifteen minutes. It had been a week where the only sleep she was able to catch was what she got during the meetings at the office. Bless Fox and some of the others for stepping up each time she fell asleep because if they hadn't she would have been running seven days on no sleep at all. An hour here or there meant the world to her.

Her brain felt like cotton, body like lead, and her eyes burned like acid. Her eyes fell shut of their own free will, her will to care about a random noise falling short of her bodies insistence on sleep. Tracking Joker, Harley, Riddler, and Dagget's activity in the city had her stretched impossibly thin. Stopping crimes along the way had her fraying on some of her edges. Every time she turned a corner these days it seemed she found a mugger or a robber when all she wanted was for them to take the hint and go home so she could save the time she expends on them. She might have been a little unduly hard on some criminals she recently came across. Grouchy was an understatement for her current mood.

She has been more than half dead on her feet in either her day mask or her night one. The way her eyes burn tells her they would rather be attached to anyone but her, likely someone that slept. The fuzzy feeling in her mind is not fully unlike it felt to be just on the cusp of going under while she was being forced to take those drugs. Thoughts, rational thoughts, are increasingly difficult thanks to the fog shading everything with that dull sort of haze. Her body loathes her every move and even drills do not fully chase away that sluggishness in her limbs. She expects she feels the way most zombies surely would if they existed, which she is thankful that they don't. She has no need for more problems.

Every time she was close to getting Dagget's little merry band, Riddler pulled something, or Joker did, which meant she had to run off to stop that, but in the meantime, some other crime was also happening. It might have made her a little crazy because keeping up with them turned out to be highly taxing. She needed to lock a few of them up very soon so she could focus again. Thank God Ivy had been behaving herself!

Riddler, she decided, would be the easiest first target to focus all her attention on. Lock them down one at a time. Tomorrow.

Once the big problems were locked up she would be able to focus on the little problem of Dagget putting out a hit on Wayne. She sent Alfred with Fox on a business trip and forced Dick to take a case she hand-picked to keep him very busy and very far away. He was working with Kid Flash and those two got along rather well so he would be very preoccupied. She sent them all away before they could catch wind of the hit and she kept it under wraps.

Once Riddler, Joker, and Harley vanished in that little snow battle, Gordon got around to the reason he came to see her. He told her all about their suspicions about Dagget wanting her out of the way in a more substantial manner than before since she had gotten away from Arkham. The next day she had been able to confirm the price on her head via Batwoman. It never frightened her, she knew she could take it. He called her a fool when she waved away his plea for her to go into protective custody. She told Jim she would be fine, she hinted that she would be safer without escorts if Dagget's money was floating around. He could only halfheartedly argue with her after that.

The thump was louder the next time. It made her pry one eye open when it occurred to her it might be an indication that someone could foreseeably be trying to break in. How they bypassed security, who could even say? Unless she slept through the alerts which might have been the case. Irritably, she tossed the blankets away, storming to her window, mentally daring anyone to try and kill her while she was in this particular color of grouchy.

Why will the world not stop? Why can nothing and no one ever just leave her alone? All she wanted was to close her eyes! Close her eyes and sleep! She would take a blow to the head and comatose at this point.

With a dramatic flick of her wrist, she threw open the curtains and snapped open the window. One glance told her she indeed did have a visitor, though not quite one she would have been expecting. No one dressed in all black, no ski mask, just a garish clown in a horrible visual clash of colors. He brightened like a glowing lightbulb when he saw her, though it dimmed when she noticed her scowl. Still, he seemed no less happy to see her considering the precarious way he was dangling from the ledge of her window.

His smile had the decency to look appropriately contrite as well as strained, "Hiya, Brookie! Mind... helping out a guy?"

Brooke started, face devoid of any surprise or emotion at all, which she honestly did not need to fake, expression was for well-rested individuals, "Why are you hanging from my window?" Her voice was monotone because she didn't really care.

"Well, you see, there was this cat!" Joker began, overly animated for someone almost to plummet to their death, "You know me, can't resist a mystery, and boy was this a mystery! You'll never believe it when I tell you the whole story! But, like I said, I was following this cat, down alleys, up rooftops, all those places cats have a tendency to go..." He paused, the expression a little pained, "before I finish this explanation, do you think you could pull me up? It's really cold out here, enough to put old Freezy in comfort, so..."

Without a thought, without hesitation or a sign she was going to move, Joker found himself very nearly tossed onto the floor. He never remembered her grabbing him, or moving. One minute he was dangling, the next he had a face full of soft carpet.

The window shut behind him with a bang and Brooke shuffled through the darkness toward her large, comfy looking bed, paying him absolutely no mind, which was an odd experience. It was rather normal to be the full focus of anyone in any given room. Not so much as a glance his way and she was slithering right back under the blankets, turning over rather forcefully, giving him her back, of all things. Like she was not even afraid of him! At all!

"Late night, huh?" He ventured but got a full zero as far as a response so he dropped that particular joke. It was one just about everyone in Gotham had made about this particular diva. They called her brainless and they called her cunning; they called her ruthless but they called her a gentle humanitarian; they said she dated too much and they said she needed a relationship; interesting how everyone agreed to adore her more than they hated her. She was Gotham's darling no matter who they were, what class or standing. They called her an idiot but a sweet, caring idiot that loved the city and gave back in every way possible. They got surprisingly defensive of their iconic airheaded bleeding-heart socialite even when she did incredibly stupid things and can't avoid trouble to save her life. They let her get away with things no one else would have. Even the reporters talked about her outlandish behavior with more fondness than honest critique.

They loved her scandals and looked forward to the next ridiculous thing she might fall into, the next terrible headline of her exploits. Hurt her though? Hurt her and there would be an uprising the likes of which no one had ever seen.

As far as Gotham was concerned, Brooklyn Wayne belonged to them. They raised her, Gotham style, warped unhealthy as they all knew they probably made her, but still simplistically good as far as people went. People fawned over her and adored her because she was as good as their blood. She was the cute little darling everyone enjoyed watching, shook their heads at, and would protect to the death. Gotham made her what she was and they knew it, knew her self destructive nature was what they taught her so they would always forgive her anything. She was her own creature too though, kind at her core the way it could not be hidden, and that she why they loved her. If Wayne could handle what life threw at her so could they. She was their rock.

Of late, even the villains had fallen prey to that particular trap. It was like the girl was magical. And hey, they were right! She was cute. A dark, twisted sort of cute that caught you unaware, but snarred you all the same. She had him for a song, or rather since as song. Maybe since she took his hand and looked into his eyes like she saw him and didn't cringe away like any sane person would. He decided to keep her, whenever it was he realized he liked her.

He shook out his numb fingers, approaching the bed slowly, "So, Brookie!" He ventured, grinning even if no one was watching. "Since I was in the neighborhood-"

Joker would swear to his dying day that when she turned around to scowl at him, the shadows in the room lengthened, grew and shifted into something alive and ready to swallow him. Fingers of the shadows pawed at him, hissing like snakes curious to see how he would taste. He would swear, just for a moment, in that darkness, that her eyes positively glowed with a murderous intent that made _him_ of all people, shrink.

"Be quiet." Her voice was just about as deadly as her shadow manipulation, quiet tone still betraying the absolute threat defiance would be quashed with.

Once she turned away he found himself letting out that breath he never knew he'd held in, "I'm... uh, a bit chilled. Mind if I join you?" His self-preservation skills had always been a little haywire since his dip in chemicals. What he should have done was run, not poke the monster, but he never could just let well enough alone.

"If that will shut you up, be my guest." She mumbled, settling into her very soft looking pillow.

Joker took a moment to process that answer and determine that it had indeed been a 'yes' when he never expected it. No one could accuse him of refusing hospitality, and no one could say he was an inconsiderate guest either! He spilled off his shoes before he burrowed under those blankets and everything. With a purr, he slithered closer to her, waiting for the inevitable slap that would follow his getting too close. Her eyes were closed and she let him get nose to nose with her before she cracked open one eye a fraction.

"Try anything and I will give you a reason to regret it." She warned in absolute deadpan.

This was the other reason he found he liked her. She could give him chills of delicious fear so few could.

Joker pressed his cold nose against hers and relished the way she shivered. He was serious about being half frozen, he could not feel his toes, half his face, or much of his fingers, it was a very cold year. Her bed was cozy, fluffy, and warm though, so he could not be more pleased. He could not help the extremely wide grin stretching his face either, a larger one than usual simply because he was entirely too amused by the situation. Sleepy was not entirely unlike her drugged persona, though drugs seemed to leave her less violently inclined. Not that he minded the sharper edge to the billionaire in the least.

"You're awfully cute and tolerant when you're sleepy, Brookie."

"Don't push your luck or you might find me more prickly." Her words were a little slurred but perfectly understandable.

Now that he was getting warmer he felt a little more playful, "Can I be the big spoon?" He asked sweetly.

"No."

"Oh, you want to be the big spoon? Well, I'm not opposed to the idea actual-"

She growled something he was mostly sure was; "I'll kill you."

It was for that reason that Joker waited, listening and watching until her body relaxed and her breathing evened out before he moved further into her space. Humans were very good blankets and he wanted to see if she was as pliant in sleep as she was drugged. It turned out she grumbled when he moved her, decidedly violent mumbling, but she did not wake up enough to follow through. Either way, he got to play big spoon, so what did he care? Her hair smelled rather nice as well. In no time at all, he was warm, comfortable, and drifting off himself. The bed was a far cry nicer than Arkham, or even his own. He invaded her well-guarded fortress for a reason but it could really wait until she slept and he did too.

When Brooke woke she felt shockingly well rested. It had been years since she felt like she'd slept exceptionally well without waking multiple times in the night or without that irritating side effect that nightmares tended to have where you felt like you battled monsters even in the sleeping world to leave a weariness lingering on the cusp. She was warm and comfortable, content. Batwoman never cared in the slightest about being cold, she relished it, even. It fed into her training and her bent toward self-deprivation, it fed her need to punish herself the same way keeping lists of every failure and life lost did. Perspective was everything and Batwoman was all about staying aware of her own flaws and doing what it took to keep herself from making more. The inwardly directed anger helped keep her from directing it outward as much.

Brooklyn, on the other hand, always hated the cold. She never liked the feeling of being cold. The way her toes tingled and her fingers numbed. She hated to shiver, hated how she could not always stop her teeth from chattering. She liked weather that was neither too cold nor too hot. She disliked he extremes of things because that lead to discomfort. She liked comfort; soft slippers, warm blankets, cheery fires, thermostats that could adjust easily to her mood and keep her happy. Waking up pleasantly warm and cozy made Brooke pleased instantly for that reason.

A glance at the clock on her nightstand tells her that she must have been asleep for around ten hours which is not as bad as it honestly could have been. She had been known, when she was simply that drained, to sleep a full twenty-four if Alfred refused to wake her after the requested four-hour mark. Why she always trusted him to do as she asked, she had no idea at times.

Something cold dropped into her stomach when someone moved behind her and the arm draped over her shifted. That little glow of happiness vanished because she recalled how she had fallen asleep. As deprived of rest as she had been it had seemed so reasonable to have one less enemy to worry about on the streets while she napped. All she had to do was capture him when she woke, she had thought. It sounded so logical! It sounded like a good idea! She rationalized it endlessly even in the short time it took to pull the man inside from his dangling position. She thought it was a perfectly grand plan when she was in full-blown sleep deprivation mentality.

Rested... it sounded like the most insane idea she might ever have entertained in her life. How? How had she expected that to end well? Truthfully she knew she had not thought that far ahead, waking up never factored into her rationale at all. As if at the time she intended to sleep forever? Because that would happen! Sleepy Brooke was an idiot! Out of her everloving mind! This was why she did not drink nearly the way people thought she did. She did not care at all for the choices she might make while under the haze. This ended no better than her drinking days as a teen. She might scream if she expected it might help. Though, after the realization of what she had done set in, she wanted to go back to sleep just to avoid it.

She cringed when she felt his cheek nuzzling into her shoulderblade like an affectionate wolf. A long pointy nose with sharp pointed teeth; all the better to eat you with, my dear! Splendid! Not one of her finer moments.

Lifting the blanket off herself enough to peek under revealed that things looked in order. All her clothing was in order, thankfully, his hands did not seem to have gone where they shouldn't have; well, other than the cuddling issue. Also, no drool, fortunately! She was not sure how she would have reacted to being drooled on by her enemy. Brooke never let anyone stay in her bed overnight even if she brought them home, which was rarer than people thought it was.

He woke up rather suddenly, or he had been awake already. She knew he was aware of her return to the real world with the way his hold on her tightened just before he tugged her over to face him. She went easily, aware that she did not have a mask to hide behind. Compliance was expected of her in this skin but try as she might, she could not summon up the fear. A crazed killer was in her bed and she was without weapons, yet she was not at all frightened. There really was something very wrong with her mind, she supposed.

Those green jade eyes stared into her, peeling away more layers than she was comfortable with, but still, she refused to pull away. She allowed his examination of her and could only hope she did not give away things she could not afford to. He looked well rested, no dark purple under his eyes to indicate the tiredness she sometimes saw in him so she guessed he must have slept right along with her. He seemed entirely more pleased than he had right to be, like he had been offered a far greater victory than simply waking in her bed. If rumors were true, that was far from a real accomplishment. Men tumbled into her bed every night, people said. She went on too many dates but held onto none for long.

Joker did not look at her the way most men did, not like he saw a woman, he just seemed to be looking at Brooke. It was strange to make that distinction and more so to feel thankful for it. He was not ogling her feminine attributes, he was _studying her_. Some distant part of her was flattered that he took the time when few others ever had but she knew exactly how dangerous it was to be under the brilliantly insane scrutiny of this man. His interest was a dangerous thing even when he chose not to actively do harm, he was harm personified. Even his gentleness could cut. He was not like Harvey, there was no safe side of him.

Joker shifted, moving up and over her, threatening without showing his fangs. The smile was as close to sweet as he might be able to accomplish, so Brooke decided to cut off anything he might lead with while he was still relatively calm.

"Good morning." She offered mildly, letting the steadiness of her voice wash over him.

If he had not seen it before, he noticed her lack of fear now and his eyes flickered between edged and fond, "Good morning!" He leaned down to kiss her jaw very lightly, never taking his eyes away from their lock on hers, searching for a response and pushing the lines to see how far he could go, "Sleep well? I know I did! Your bed is the Tajmalah of beds, darling!"

"I'm glad you found it adequate." She told him mildly, "though, in the light of day, I find myself wondering what I neglected to inquire about last night. Why did you come to see me?"

He hovered over her with that sly grin, a hand on either side of her head as he leered like a fox, "I heard you had vacancies on your staff list so I thought I could... submit an application. Make an honest buck, you know?"

Brooke arched an unimpressed brow, "You clean? Or were you applying to cook?" Whatever reaction he expected, he was not going to get it.

A few emotions flickered startled over his face but none of them stuck but the widened grin, "Oh, darling, I'm very experienced in... harsh chemicals! And look at me? Am I not squeaky clean looking?" He held up his white hand in front of her face, "Am I not well groomed?"

Brooke sat up, almost bumping noses with him, invading his space without hesitation or show of fear, forcing him to move back, which she felt was a triumph, "You want to be my stand in butler?" She laced in all that incredulity he would expect but none of the apprehension.

He chuckled, sitting back on his heels, playful smile hiding the almost softer edge he was trying not to show the more she pressed him back, "Actually, I was thinking 'maid' since I would look stunning in that uniform, but I suppose I could be... heh, your new _penguin_ , if you like."

"Do you have any references?" She watched that surprise seep into his eyes, but also the delight of not being able to predict her.

There was that sheepish tilt to his eyes again, but it was swallowed up in the flirtation when he leaned closer, "Oh, several banks..." he chuckled softly, "they could tell you how well I 'cleaned' them out."

Brooke hummed thoughtfully before she slipped out around him to walk and get her dressing gown, "I suppose I could add you to the list of potentials."

Joker grinned brightly at her, slithering after her gleefully, "Oh, baby, you won't regret that! I'm very good at anything I set my mind to."

"I suppose we will see." She offered, ignoring all the voices screaming at her not to let him be at her back.

"And... I have a few associates as well. I could really beef up your security! I couldn't help noticing how understaffed this place seems to be, Brookie!"

"I don't know, I tend to like the quiet."

He hummed into her ear as he leaned in and rested his chin on her shoulder, "Well, maybe so, but I was kind of thinking it must get a little too quiet. You never know... who might come calling... when a lady like yourself is all alone."

"You mean, like a killer?" She parried.

His grin was wolfish, dangerous, but also somehow comforting in the odd little protective glint to it, "Yes, exactly! So, who better to hire? What do ya say, doll? Have I sold you yet?"

"I still need your resume." She told him simply as she left the room to head for the kitchen. Coffee was needed for this day.

* * *

When the phone in her office rang, she snatched it up with a sweet cream greeting, expecting the line to be dead in the next few seconds. It is not as if she cannot spot an intimidation tactic when she sees it. The mob has never been subtle. Those men are not complicated. It is intended to frighten her and also, very likely to try to identify where she is at what times. It's that second half that makes her switch it up every day, answering her own calls some days and having the reception desk do so other days at randomized intervals. Sometimes she instructed them to lie, making it sound like she was not in when she was. Confuse them as much as possible.

"Brooke, hi! It's Jim Gordon."

Her voice shifts into a real kind of pleasant, "Oh, hello! What may I do for you?"

"Well, I just wanted to check in with you. See if you were doing alright. Have you been having any trouble lately? Noticed anything odd?" He sounds worried but like he is trying to hide it.

Her mind flashed to Joker sneaking into her house, then to the hang-up calls. Her voice is even and pleasant when she answered, "No, nothing seems to be amiss as of late. Everything has been running smoothly as it always does."

"I... uh, heard you sent Alfred and Fox away. Grayson is off on a trip too, from what I heard." He is hinting a bit strongly.

She chuckled warmly, "Contrary to popular belief, I tend not to chain my employees to their work. I've been known to let my ward out of his room a time or two as well."

His answering chuckle was as fake as hers had been, "Yeah... I knew it was just a coincidence, you getting everyone out of harms way. I bet it's also a coincidence if none of them knew about the threats too, right?"

There was a slight edge to her voice when she spoke next, "You wouldn't happen to have called them to check, would you?"

Jim sighed a long-suffering sort of noise, "No, Brooke, I didn't, but I should!"

"There is nothing to worry about and no reason to worry them." She assured, back to her charming voice, "With them out of the picture, he has nothing to lure me away with. I'm perfectly safe. I did it to watch my own back."

"Right, good call. You also set yourself up to be totally alone at all times in a big old house anyone could just walk into!"

"So watch the house, Jim. Maybe you can use me to lure them out. Dangle a hook and see if you get a bite?" She smiled thinly even if he could not see, "That is common practice as far as tactics with the police, I should think."

"I'm not risking your life to set up a trap, Brooke!" He snapped.

"No, you wouldn't. Me on the other hand? If I set it up myself, you had nothing to do with it. If it goes south it's on my head."

"Don't do this, Brooke! That's a dangerous game to play! Things could go wrong so easily!"

"Then don't watch my house. It was just an idea."

"That's not what I mean! You need real protection! I could put you somewhere! Somewhere only I knew about!"

"That's no way to catch fish, Jim." She chuckled, intent on ending the conversation. "I'm not really very good at staying in the shadows anyway. It's not my thing."

"It will be if I have to put you in a box six feet under!" He was getting worked up and it reminded her of the quieter way Alfred worried.

"I'll be fine. I've got you watching out for me and I'm pretty sure you sicked a certain masked vigilante on me as well. What could I have to worry about? Just get some dirt on them and everything will be fine."

Jim Gordon was not pleased when the conversation ended but they said that was the sign of good business choices. If no one was totally happy it was a fair deal. Batwoman and Gordon were on the case. Things would work out even if he hated everything about her plan. He did not have all the facts. Sometimes she felt guilty about that, about letting him stay in the dark. Darkness was protection though. People that knew too much ended up dead. That was the reason for the mask, to be a shield. Everyone knew that no one knew who was under the mask. If he knew the truth he would act differently with both her personas and that would get him killed. Batwoman could not be human, not to anyone.

Brooke would buy him a drink after it was all over to make up for putting him through all that. She could also make a nice donation to the GCPD for him. Update some of their technology with hers. They could use some nice new toys to make life a little easier. Mostly she just wanted to make his life easier. Even now, after so much time, she did not trust more than a tiny hand full of his people. Lack of trust was what kept her from giving things away to the wrong people though and it had to stay that way.

When all was said and done, Batwoman only had five people in all the world she trusted. That was enough and that was likely all she would ever have. She would do anything for those people and she honestly thought they would return the favor. What more could a Bat ask for?

* * *

The air in Gotham was always heavy. Depending on the location, the city had a unique feeling to the air, a sort of musk that could be sweet or sour to varying degrees. Save a few seasons in the year, Gotham was always a bit cold, a damp kind that sunk in. That was likely largely thanks to the cloud cover that never really went away, rain or not. It felt alive, felt like home the way no other place really had. Gotham gave great sorrow, but there were happy memories hidden within as well, enough to make it worth the pain.

Brooke's moderately high heels were a soft click against the concrete after the elevator. The office building was emptying of its usual group as time ticked late. The garage was secluded enough to make her listen more closely. Leaving before the entirety of her staff was gone had been tactical, but her senses were telling her it might not have been early enough. Batwoman had rather good instincts for a situation and something in the air smelled of brewing trouble to her. A horn honked somewhere on the lower levels but it made her jump just slightly anyway. She ran her fingers through her hair to fluff it up a bit and sift through any tangles that might have come up through the day.

Batwoman hid her hair under the cowl so it was never an issue for her, but Brooke had a bad habit of playing with the free waves when she was thinking. She allowed herself the habit because Brooke was supposed to be human and that meant having various habits. A stiffness took hold of her spine and her body wanted desperately to fall into a defensive position, but it was a very telling stance so she resisted it. Silent feet, lithe motion as well as very fast, an untrained individual would not notice the approach. Her breath caught and held when arms were suddenly around her, a skillful hold that caught her arms and pulled her face to a chest, a hand on the back of her head the presses her mouth into the fabric to keep her quiet but not blocking her nose. This was far from the first time this person had ever captured someone off guard. She smelled gasoline but under it, this close, she smelled pine and chai. Joker. The understanding should have made her fight like a wildcat but she held still, absolutely calm as he tugged her behind a cement wall.

"Hey, boys! Looking for a little fun?" A smooth, sultry voice purred from further down the line. Poison Ivy. Perhaps she was not behaving herself as much as Batwoman had thought?

"Oh, I bet they are, Red! Why else would they be hangin' around dark lots looking bored?" The cheery voice had that familiar edge that promised danger. Harley Quinn.

Joker, Ivy, and Harley. Quite the tally! If that was all of them.

There was something of a collective outcry before the crash of metal denting and glass smashing was one she associated with Harley's mallet connecting with a car. The sound of manmade rock crumbling under the force of pointed vines of nature followed on the heels of Harley's weapon. She never used to expect to know what growing plants sounded like but botany on crack changed that. Interesting how things could really turn around as far as the perspective possibility once the city had its way. Interesting too how that was what her mind chose to focus on at a time like this.

The terrible pops of guns began to go off and Brooke tensed against her will; she hated the sound of gunfire bouncing off walls, the noise hovering and lingering long after it should be gone. She hated guns and she was inexplicably worried about the two women farther away even if the players in the fight were undetermined on the full scale. The shouts were rather nondescript. No one had shouted any sort of identifying call the way a police officer might have. The accents were typical the of usual street vernacular.

One of the men had to have pulled out a phone because he frantically begged for backup. That would indicate the other women were doing well enough, though most street thugs were in no way prepared to do any sort of real battle with the super criminals of the city. Even the mob could not hope to honestly contend a good portion of the time even if they would never consider admitting it. She could guess this group of men was hired muscle and nothing better, though they might have bee another small-time ring, she would be more inclined to think they were lackeys of Falcone or more likely hired by the same man that put a price on her head. She did not recognize the voices but she felt the likelihood was high so far as logic dictated.

Joker moved her back with the weight of his body, a wall of wiry muscle that his lithe frame made it easy to forget he possessed. His eyes were dancing like a child at Christmas, the muscles flexing wildly under the fabric of his suit and coat. He set her against the freezing cold beam, looking right into her eyes, one hand cupping her cheek and the other firm on her shoulder, "Stay _right_ there, beautiful! Be back in a flash! Heh!" There was enough of a chill in the air to let her see slight puffs of moisture in the air on his emphasized words.

He rushed away from her side, grinning like the lunatic he was. It was not until she made to follow that she heard the growl. She froze obediently, only letting her eyes move to the hyenas positioned on either side of the hallway. They padded closer, eyes fixed on her. Harley's babies were standing guard to either keep her from moving or keep others from coming close, maybe both.

The Joker's loud cackle was punctuated by a few gun blasts and the "dogs" grinned at her, tongues hanging out between canines. The sight of those teeth made her keenly aware of her lack of uniform protection should she disobey what rules had been set down by that warning growl. She knew all the facts she needed about this brand of not so domesticated dog and she was rightly intimidated as Wayne.

She looked to the parking lot, saw the flashes, heard the shots, heard the frightened screams of the men she could only guess had been waiting to abduct or kill her. Gordan told her all about their suspicions about Dagget wanting her out of the way in a more substantial manner than before since she had gotten away from Arkham. She refused his desperate offers of protection, not wanting to dodge a bullet and a guard at the same time.

The appearance of her old asylum friends in the garage meant they elected themselves her protectors or they were rivals for the money. It was a fifty-fifty chance either way. In the past, she would have bet on the latter, but lately, she could not be dead sure either way.

The fight was so loud! Glass was shattering, metal was breaking, bullets were going wild. It was the sort of chaos she would expect to hear if thugs were thrown in against the real crime bosses, and not the ones like Daget or Falcone, the _real_ Gotham criminals. The thugs with guns were the ones that needed protection now but the city protector was under close watch once again even if it was by animals.

They were her ghoulish guards but they would turn on her in a minute. Batwoman would move but Wayne would stay put. They laughed that chilling, horrible burst of sound, mocking her as if they knew all about her inner conflict. Blow her cover and save people that likely planned to kill her, or leave them to the fate of their poor choices? She was not fond of doing nothing but the "babies" growled again when she tried to move away from the beam. Slow and steady progress might not be enough to save her, and besides, it was a long way to an elevator. If only she had a bloody steak or two on her person!

Bolting it was! Though it was probably the wrong choice considering she knew the kind of power housed in those terrible jaws. Regardless, she could not stand there all day! A jump over the back of one had her heading right for the mayhem of the battle but she really had to do something to put a stop to that. The laughing mutts took chase as she rounded the corner, but that ended rather swiftly with Brooke corralled in Joker's arms and Harley giving the "sit" order like they were perfectly normal guard dogs.

The battle was over. Already. Though what had she really expected? There were bodies draped over cars and sprawled on the ground. Brooke took a swift count of the number but she did not want to ask if any of them survived the battle. The blood pooling under some of them might indicate answer enough but she would rather not know just yet, not while Joker had her head tucked under his chin, Harley was rewarding the animals, and Ivy was ignoring Joker enough to rub soothing circles into her shoulders.

It might have been around that time when she noticed she was shaking like a leaf and that might have been why Ivy was trying to calm her, prying her away from the clown to hug her.

"Back off, Joker." Pam swatter at him like he was a fly.

He simpered at her, "Possessive much?"

"He's just trying to help." Harley put in with a sigh so long-suffering it might have been amusing if the situation left room for amusement.

Brooke ignored the exchange and did not bother to assert her individuality and lack of belonging to any of them. She had no idea why she was shaking because she was not frightened, not of them. Perhaps for them? For the people of Gotham including the criminals that might now be at odds with the biggest threats in the city. For her slipping sanity? For the fact she was allowing Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn to cuddle her on both sides and sooth her like she moderately remembered them doing while she was having a particularly bad episode in Arkham. Was she in shock? Maybe she was having an episode currently because she was doing a poor job of handling, of processing, the situation at hand. Being rescued by her greatest enemies? What happened to her life?

Was she actually out of Arkham at all? She had to be just as insane as they were and probably ten times as morally corrupt to be allowing this to happen. Putting her identity before lives, letting fear of exposure stall her choices to act? What sort of person would do that? The Bat would have jumped where Wayne lingered in indecision. Her morals, her rules, everything was slipping and she didn't yet know how to stop her tumble. Brooke was supposed to be a background person, see but not overly involved in things unless needed. It was Batwoman that was supposed to be involved in everything. She did not know how to make choices as Brooklynn! Not like this. Her day mask was never supposed to be in these situations.

She was supposed to be clad in kevlar when she saw these people. She was supposed to save the day and not allow people to die! Then she was supposed to take these same people to Arkham where they could not hurt anyone else. She had been searching for two of the three endlessly as Batwoman and by rights she should now be able to take them away now that they were before her, but Wayne couldn't even throw a punch. Wayne was helpless and silly-headed, she would not even be able to make a normal citizen's arrest let alone bring in three big time criminals. Brooklynn had no business being here in this situation!

Harley and Ivy were cooing at her but Joker watched her like he could see all the thoughts in her head like he knew her secrets.

She was not supposed to be protected by anyone, let alone Batwoman's sworn enemies! Were they defending her? What happened to her life? She felt like fainting just to escape but nothing short of head injury ever allowed her that sweet peace. Her head was in a thousand places, bouncing wildly in and out of various scenarios and would or should's, could and couldnots. She hated herself for making a thousand mistakes in the last, most likely no more than, ten minutes. She really felt a slight spin in her head just contemplating it. Either way, she hated how she handled the entire catastrophe. Her indecision caused so much... death. She was supposed to stop things like that. She was supposed to be better. She always knew that people like her, people that took on the responsibility she did, could not afford to make mistakes, yet here she was.

She needed to develop entirely new strategies on exactly what Brooke could do. She might use this as an excuse to publicly learn Aikido, but still, that went against her masks helpless purpose. No one was supposed to think she was capable of fighting, that was the point. Maybe she really should hire guards but they would cause so many problems on so many different levels. How could she make it work as Brooke?

"It's alright, Brookie, they won't bother you again! Nobody touches you while we're around!" Harley assured her, cuddling her like a two-year-old would a stuffed animal.

"Don't worry Harley, it takes more than this to frighten our girl." Joker's face twisted into a morbid sort of too-wide grin, "We're the scariest things down here anyway! Ha! She's just a little... overwhelmed. She'll be fine once we get her outa here, right Brookie baby?"

Our girl. Like she belonged to them.

"How many people are after me?" She was surprised how rough her voice sounded, especially since she was not sure what emotion was causing the problem.

"Only the mob." Ivy assured her easily, "Penguin's people know not to touch the contract. Harvey would kill them if they even thought about it."

That was good to know. It did not make her feel particularly better, however, perhaps even worse. How had she, the inept persona of the day, gotten mixed in with the group she battled by night? How did she come to gain their... protection, was it? How many more lives would she be responsible for ending now that she was both a target for one group and owned by another? This was one way to wipe out the mob, she thought but squashed it down vengefully in the next second. That was not how she was supposed to handle things. She could feel a headache coming on strong and the shaking in her fingers was still there so she fisted them to hide it.

"We better get out of here before the Bat and the police show up." Ivy tugged on Brooke's arm, making her move.

"Oh no! The fuzz!" Joker giggled, swinging his arms back and forth as he followed.

"I'd just as soon not see any of them, ruin a perfectly good day." Harley mused as she linked arms with Brooke on the other side.

The shaking got a little worse.


	4. Chapter 4

**Same Bat-Time, Same Bat-Channel**

* * *

Batwoman stayed perfectly still, listening to the engine of the blue van as it cooled unhappily in the cold weather. It reminded her of the sound Harley made when she walked, erratic clicking that was measurable and also not. The cutting night air was no more kind to machine than to man, especially not in Gotham where the wind blew off the waterfront like the Arctic, chilling everything faster and more harshly then it would otherwise. The burley targets had gone inside the run down and bedraggled warehouse less than ten minutes before. It was likely not much warmer inside than it was outside considering the broken windows looming overhead so they had no reason to linger more than was needed. She could safely surmise that they would return with their cargo in relatively short order. That was what she was waiting on.

Soon it would not matter what condition the building was in. She was fairly sure Harvey would blow it sky high once he found out what it was being used for. Another random accident no one would tie to him, she would guess. He would not let Wayne be tied in any way to the event so he would not want anyone's name associated with the destruction.

She blinked her eyes a few times from behind the lenses of the mask, willing herself to focus the way she had not been adequately able to in days. Inevitably, her mind was drawn back to places it dared not go but had to none the less. She could not afford to think about it but she could not afford to forget it either. There would come a time, maybe sooner than she would like when she had to deal with the recent issues of her more complicated life. Batwoman's familiar mask was a welcome relief from unsavory, messy things humanity forced her to endure.

From her place shrouded in shadows, she watched the dancing beam of a flashlight bounce around and around inside like the typical twinkle in Joker's eyes. This was where she was most comfortable, in her element, hunting down crime and being a shadow. Like this, she knew what to expect, how to react, how to respond. Nothing was terribly blurry, there were clear-cut lines in the sand. There was nothing to flounder over; she knew the games, knew how to play, knew how to win. She excelled in this area of her life. Everything, every action or step was to cultivate the work she did from behind a black mask. She liked it best in that mask.

Recent events forced her to realize that she spent so much time becoming the Bat, being a creature criminals feared, being something other than human, that she forgot how to be human at all. Her Brooklyn mask knew how to function and excel in the party or business world, but throw her into other situations and she could hardly function, too busy trying to decide how she should respond in order to be Brooklynn and not Batwoman, trying to determine how vulnerable to be.

She spent so much time trying to remove the human element, the potential for weakness, and being an untouchable legend, that she forgot. She slowly, over time, began to forget she was, in fact, human underneath. She was painfully human, flawed, open, possessing the potential for an exploitable opening opponents might find. She could be killed, she could be hurt, and apparently; the part that was new to her; she could be saved. Whether she needed it or not, there were people out there that intended to protect her. Brooke, Batwoman, the Bastian of raw power, could apparently have others working to help her whether she wanted them to or not. She could have enemies and friends, and sometimes they could be the same person.

The Bat could not quite relegate that to her mind. She was inhuman, a force of justice. Justice might have allies but not friends because it could not afford attachments such as those. An enemy was to be dealt with, helped when possible, incarcerated when dangerous to others. Batwoman did not sit in the company of adversaries and then let them walk free. Brooke, however, apparently did. Brooke was also friends with Batwoman's enemies and allowed them to fight her battles with far more than condonable violence. Brooke was nothing but human; flawed and horrendously vulnerable to attack.

Dwelling on what she had done made the Bat antsy which only made her all the more still. Brooke would fidget because that was what people were supposed to do, she made sure Brooke used gestures most called nervous habits. They weren't habits, they were calculated actions intended to prove she was human, but they were fake; the actions were fake because Batwoman had no tells, she couldn't. Brooke was a mask intended for certain situations, but Batwoman was another mask created to handle other kinds of situations.

Until the night in the garage, she never wondered what her real face was if it could not always be the Bat. Was her real face something between the two?

She kept going back to that night, unable to stop the endless loops of collected information she tried to gather on this other part of herself, the in-between ground she clearly needed to establish if she was ever to function. Things could get slippery so very fast.

The person that allowed herself to be shoved into a car with three criminals and two hyenas was not Brooklynn and it was not the Batwoman. That other person allowed herself to be taken to some tiny cafe while the dogs waited in the car. Batwoman needed to know who that other person was and determine whether it was a danger to her or if it could be used to her benefit. She doubted that other part of her, probably that part that Arkham awakened, would bring anything but danger.

It was surreal, thinking of herself riding in a car beside Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, and the "babies" with none other than Joker driving. It should have been one of those terrible jokes the clown usual made up on the spot. Batwoman in a clown car or something. It would not have been funny either way, simply confusing and hard to keep accurate score of. Even when she got into the car she knew it was a terrible idea but she allowed it anyway. Even so, it almost seemed natural while Harley had her arm draped over Brooke's shoulder, chattering away about nothing seemingly important. A large part of her insisted that being with these three people was more than natural, that they were her friends.

What were they, if not friends, all things considering? They saved her life, most likely, in Arkham with no particular promise of gain involved for them. For whatever reason, they prevented an ambush intended to catch or kill her. So far they had never hurt her even though they had chances. Logic and past knowledge told her not to trust criminals but her automatic response was to let them do with her as they liked. Deep down on the subconscious level, she trusted them, and that was inexplicably bad for her health.

Leaving the "dogs" in the car with promises from "mommy" to bring them something back, the three very dangerous criminals lead her into a tiny little cafe that looked like it had seen better days a few hundred years ago. No one shouted or pointed when they walked in, there was no terror. Then again, a look at the two women told her neither of them was in their villain attire. Coming to her rescue must have been spur of the moment. Pam seemed to be in more of a business casual under her long green coat. She looked good, normal, even rather cheerful with a nice spring in her step that might have nothing to do with the mayhem they left behind. Harley's coat covered nearly everything but the shoes were normal and her blonde hair was in those high tails on either side of her head, unadorned in her comical hat or the harsh makeup.

Joker was the only recognizable one of them even if his purple trench coat covered up what was probably his usual ugly mesh of colors, his face and hair would never allow him to be exactly subtle. Brooke had not taken notice of their clothing in the garage or the car, but she wondered over its meaning now. They must have been in a rush, it was the only answer. Perhaps they nearly had not made it in time to stop the attempt on her life. She wished that had been the case to an extent.

The girls tugged her to a table that must have been twenty years old. Harley dropped down into the booth with a huge grin, bouncing her way to one side before patting the vinal.

Brooke took another look at her surroundings, trying to understand what was happening. Even with two of the party seeming normal, Joker alone could usually cause a fright but the staff did not so much as blink. They must come to this place with some regularity. They could have been any normal group of friends going for coffee after work by the way no one so much as flinched at Joker's pitchy snicker at something likely only he noticed, about who-knew-what. When Harley grabbed her hand and tugged she allowed herself to be pulled into place. She could feel every spring in the seat but there was just enough padding left to prevent it from hurting.

Ivy and Harley bracket her in the booth protectively while Joker sat alone on the other side in a languid sprawl. She found herself adopting a timid posture just to afford herself a little space... and she really needed to gather her wits anyway. Even after the drive, there was still entirely too much adrenaline in her system and no place for her to expend it so her body responded the only way it could. Her teeth chattered and her fingers trembled if she did not clench her jaw and ball her fingers. The reaction made her angry but that only fed into her bodies rebellion. She was angry over a lot of things and there was nothing around her she could take her temper issues out on.

At home, she would have been able to run to the gym and work it out on a dummy, in a mask and cape she could work it out on dummies that punched back and carried weapons. At home, Alfred would have made her a cup of tea and poked fun at her until the anger and spiraling feelings died a natural death. With these people all those feelings could do was fester and the sheer amount of guilt suffocate her nearly to death. Reflexively, she took deeper breaths, avoiding slipping into familiar breathing exercises, but skimming them just enough to work toward control. Batwoman would not be shaking, and if she was, she would get it under control with training. Putting on a mask made her a different being, one capable of anything. Why was it harder without it? Weren't they the same person? Was it just because she could not hide her face, could not openly use the training she worked years to perfect?

Was it... because she trusted these people that much? Trusted them on the level of consciousness logic could not reach? The way she trusted Alfred and Gordon? Did she feel safe being a little out of control with them? Was she insane?

The group ordered something and the waitress was gone before Brooke even really knew she was there. As far as she knew, she did not order anything, which was fine. Though, how did this staff manage to stay so calm in the cafe of not one, but three super criminals? Did they really come here that often? Was this place just that desperate for patrons that they would take anyone that came in and be happy? Also, did these three honestly pay for anything? Did they tip? She never imagined them paying for anything they took but maybe they did pay some people. People they liked? Did they support local struggling businesses?

The shaking began to calm as she let herself be carried away by outside questions, musing over the unknown and more or less trivial. That was what she really needed, puzzles to keep herself occupied mentally.

Harley rested her head on Brooke's shoulder and Ivy pushed her whole body more up against her side like the redhead intended to hold her together by force of will. It was a little too much like Arkham, actually, like those long nights before the new dose of medication. No wonder she secretly trusted them. How could she not? They held her hair when she vomited and curled around her when her body went into spasms, making sure she did not hurt herself when she could not control herself. What part of that would make her fear them?

"Don't worry, sugar! We'll keep you safe!" Pam told her with such assurance that it seemed Dagget should be listening in right about then for his own protection.

Harley hummed her agreement, lifting her head when the desensitized waitress set four ordinary white mugs on the table. The milky brown liquid swirled slightly before stilling as the cups all adjusted to the stationary surface. When Brooke looked up at the brunet, it was to discover a tired, worn smile; when she asked if they needed anything else, her voice sounded thin as damp paper, but it sounded more from general wiriness rather than fear. It might have been the oddest thing to date when the woman simply walked casually away.

Joker propped his feet on her thighs under the table where no one could see, his heels were cold even with the socks. Where had he put his shoes? She did not respond more than to glance at him. It could have been an advance or simply because she was there. Looking at him though, she almost believed it was his way of connecting with her where no one could see, possibly even his own way to offer comfort. At the very least, this might have been the most subdued she had ever seen him. It might have been because he already had his fight for the night and it left him skating on the catharsis. She normally did not see him after a fight with someone other than herself but she knew from experience of many drives to Arkham that he was usually more relaxed after a battle.

Harley curled her fingers around the steaming mug, lifting it up in a salute, that shy sweetness tucked into her smile, "I know you said we should go out for coffee sometime but the occasion felt more like a hot chocolate kinda thing."

The slight wrinkle in Brooke's brow, one she had not been aware she had until it was gone, lifted when she looked at that expression, "Chocolate is never a bad alternative."

"Once a month, in particular, chocolate is a must for us ladies. Right?" Ivy offered sweetly, clearly relishing the wrinkle of disgust in Joker's nose at the reference he might have only understood because of Harley.

"So right!" Harley beamed gleefully, "Never could understand a girl that didn't like chocolate, that's for sure!"

"Could you not go there again?" Joker glared at Ivy while the other woman simpered back maliciously.

"I never understood why the subject is so disturbing to men. It's a perfectly natural part of life." Pam leaned forward, elbow on the table, chin on her knuckles.

Without breaking his glare with Poison Ivy, Joker reached unerringly for the container of sugar, twisted off the cap, and dumped the contents into his hot chocolate, as if that was his answer. He plunked the spoon into the cup and stirred venomously before taking and angry sip. For her part, Ivy looked pleased as a cat with the cream. Harley sighed loudly and shook her head. This could ratchet up into a real conflict if someone did not step in. Good thing stepping in was sort of her thing when conflict arose.

"How did you know they were waiting for me?" Brooke asked, no particular target intended for the question.

"We have our ways." Joker grinned that overly large grin, tone low and sinister but also somehow not intimidating.

"Magicians secrets?" She asked.

All three grinned like it was not much of a secret, but still one they could do well to hold onto.

"Something like that." Harley sang out the words.

"Harley called me to let me know what was going down and I came right over." Pam shrugged and picked up her cup, sipping delicately from it.

"Where were you before?" Brooke had to ask, needed to know what Poison Ivy might have been doing and how illegal it was. Joker and Harley were escapees, but Pam was supposed to be... on the right path. She had not been watching her very closely because she thought... she no longer needed to.

Pam grinned slyly, the tasteful wine lipstick leaving a slight trace on the cup when she set it down, "I was going on a date, but he can wait. This was more important."

Brooke's jaw dropped in honest shock, "You were on a date?"

"I hadn't gotten there yet, but like I told him, something important came up. Girls have to watch each other's backs around this city."

"Here, here!" Harley agreed just under uproariously.

"Then why am I here?" Joker huffed, making a show of crossing his arms petulantly over his chest.

"Comic relief," Ivy told him simply.

Harley was swift to jump in, as expected, "Oh, no, no, sorry, Puddin'! You were great too! It's just us girls used to share a wing in the clink, you know?"

He offered an unimpressed tilt of his brow, "I guess I should go make a club with Harvey, Eddy, and Johnny, then. If this is such an exclusive club, I mean."

"Oh, well, don't worry too much, Joker. Most people could mistake you for a woman anyway." Ivy innocently took a drink of the hot beverage and ignored the way his lip curled in a silent growl.

Harley chuckled nervously, "She's just joshin' ya, Puddin'! You know what a kidder she is!"

Brooke cleared her throat, "I'm guessing those men were the hire bunch from Dagget, right?"

They each turned attention back to her, nodding in unison.

Brooke turned a shy, wary smile on them, "So, why... if you don't mind me asking... did you stop them?" The narrow-eyed confusion and questioning tilt of heads made her continue, "I mean, you could have let them do it, or you could just turn me in yourselves for the money. Why skip out on a date, or drop anything, inconvenience yourselves for me?"

They barked out a few rounds of chuckles at her obvious expense.

"What do you think we are, cheap?" Ivy shoved her shoulder into Brooke.

"We'd never let you down like that! You're one of us now, even if you did get sprung from the joint!" Harley assured her cheerfully.

"Like they said!" Joker grinned too wide, "And besides, I'm pretty sure you could pay us better anyway if you were of a mind to offer us a reward for our good deeds. After all, it's good to encourage positive behavior, so they say!"

"Mr. J!" Harley admonished, scandalized, "How could you say that! She's our friend!"

"What?" His shoulders rose defensively, "She can afford it! It doesn't have to be cash, I accept diamonds or anything of monetary value really."

Harley almost jumped out of the booth, "Mr. J!"

Brooke could not have stopped the near hysterical laughter even if she had really been trying. It was funny! Hillarious, really! Probably the best joke she had ever heard in her entire life. She was one of them! The secret identity of the **Batwoman** was considered "one of the crew" as far as Gotham's _most wanted_ were concerned. She was another lunatic that found her way in and out of Arkham, just like the rest of them. The entire night was the set up for the punch line.

Batwoman's enemies were going to be watching over Brooklyn Wayne like twisted centuries. She was seated in a cafe with three of her oldest enemies and they were, of all things, trying to help her. Batwoman was sitting in a dilapidated cafe with her enemies sipping hot chocolate like it was the most normal thing in the world. How was that not absolutely funny? She was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe.

"Hey, maybe you should try drinking your cocoa?" Harley patted her arm, pushing the cup closer to her, leaning in like a worried mother hen.

"Maybe sugar isn't the best idea for her at the moment." Joker countered, pulling the cup back a fraction.

"Maybe we should take her home? She's had a hard night," Ivy wavey them both away.

The women took to rubbing her arms and back while Joker soothed his socked feet over her legs. It did not help over much because once the laughter began it was hard to stop. Years had gone by without such an outburst of laughter. When she was small, she remembered laughing that way. Her father was a quiet man but he had a wicked wit about him and he loved to make his wife and child laugh. It was a private thing they shared but it was precious.

It was absurd, probably terrible, and part of it was doubtlessly more to do with her fraying mental state than anything, but she was honestly amused by the sheer irony of the entire thing. She could not even argue against their point. As Brooklyn Wayne, she was more or less just one of them, one of the nut house crew that got away. Pam let a date pass them by with what she guessed was a rich man. She could only guess what the other two had been about but she guessed they had been up to something. Who on earth but a dear friend would drop everything and rush to save some poor sucker they thought to be helpless and then take them for cocoa and comfort? That wasn't just a casual friend, that was a best friend. Her _best friends_ ; other than her butler, mastermind technician co-worker, and police associate; were _super criminals_! If that wasn't irony she did not know what was!

Brooke opted to drink and only just managed on to spit it all over the table, calming her laughter just enough to swallow. She drained the cup and fanned the hysterics to simple giggles, insisting to all three sets of worried glances that she was perfectly fine. Though, honestly, her cheeks hurt from the smiling and her stomach muscles ached more than they did if she did five hundred sit-ups, which made no sense.

"I haven't laughed that much since I was eight." She blurted out, shockingly honest in her euphoric moment.

That seemed to disturb them, particularly Joker, for some reason. He looked like someone had stolen Christmas right out from under him.

"We really need to fix that..." Harley mumbled, "That's just a sad comment on life if I ever heard it. But what are friends for? If not to help ya see the funny side of life?"

"For a social butterfly, you really need more of a life, honey." Ivy pet her fingers through Brooke's dark hair.

Brooke found herself grinning again, not sure why or what had come over her and not left, "You guys are better friends than I deserve... you're so nice to me... I don't really understand it."

"You think us not wantin' ta let you die so we can collect a reward is being 'so nice'? What crowds do you run with anyway?" Harley's big eyes narrowed in that way she usually had if she thought someone was looking at Brooke too long in Arkham.

"Little too used to swimming with sharks, eh Brookie?" Joker grinned at her.

It made her think of a mostly blurry memory of Croc grumbling at her to just leave him alone and stop bouncing on his toes, and she could not help giggling again, "Or maybe just crocodiles?"

Joker looked at his cup and swirled the contents, "Did they put something in this? Did they _spike_ these?"

What a strange world! A strange, strange world. Unbelievable, really.

* * *

It really only took her a maximum of five seconds to resize her office had been broken into. It was quiet as always but far from vacant. The shadows in the room were long and stark, with the draperies still drawn, but that did not hide the disturbance to the room. Years spent in paranoia had a tendency to make a person very alert, besides, she was pretty used to staying alert to her environment.

She shut the door behind her softly, mentally storing the fresh scratch on the key slot away and refocusing on the sense of presence prevailing the normal feeling of the room. The person entering had been careful, very skillful avoiding all the usual things in place to alert her to entry. This person was familiar with some of her tactics and some of her usual paranoia. Nothing she did in the office was anything near what she used o protect the Batcave save for the very careful and intense guards on the computer, but she still had her low-level tricks she used over the years. People close to her knew about them, she even gave a few friends pointers to help them stay a little safer.

When her eyes spotted the shape of a man seated in one of the chairs she knew who her uninvited guest , she did not speak, pretending to be oblivious while she made her way to her desk. She was not terribly good at faking a startled response but she kept her posture relaxed several moments longer until she felt it normal enough for ordinary people to notice him, at which point she forced her body to tense.

Neither of them spoke for a moment but he finally broke his end of the silence, "Hello, Brooke."

She studied his relaxed shoulders and steepled hands, "Trying to give a girl heart trouble, Harvey?"

"I doubt anything scares you anymore, hard-headed as they come." He huffed back.

"Is that a compliment or a rebuff?" She made her way back to the front of the desk, leaning there in front of him.

"Both in equal turn." He rumbled in that deeper voice, bordering on that thin line between the two halves of himself.

Brooke could only assume Harvey sneaking into her office the morning after the others foiled an attempt on her life was no coincidence. She reached over and dialed a few keys and waited for her secretary to pick up. With intentional blandness, she ordered the front desk to hold all her calls and instructed that no one be let up. By the sound of Susan's voice it was clear she thought the order meant Brooke would be napping but that was just fine. It was a temptation to turn on the light as well but she refrained, knowing he preferred it this way. She could see well in the dark anyway.

He looked imposing wrapped in shadows with those wide shoulders and thick arms. She knew from experience how difficult he was to take down if he was of a mind to fight, which was always. He was a big, hard-hitting ball of rage and injured mental state to match the physical. Two-Face might also have been one of the only men she battled that did not take her lightly initially because she was a woman. He faced her the way he did any threat; a flip of a coin and a lot of force, though he took her seriously even before his accident.

"How did you get in?" There was no heat or accusation to her question, just curiosity.

"I have my ways." He answered cryptically, not moving from his place in the partial shadows. He did things like that often, hiding part of himself when he could. His flaws were on display for all the world now, she could not fault him for hiding it when possible. "I heard you had a run in with Dagget's thugs."

A few memories flashed unbidden through her mind and she pushed them away, "News travels in this town." She let go a winning smile she used at parties, "But clearly you can't pin a Wayne down that easily, right?"

Harvey leaned forward just a little closer to the light so he could be sure she saw his glare, "You can't take this seriously for a minute?"

"Seriously?" She shrugged and smiled even brighter since she did not know how to deal with the situation without some sort of protective mask to hide the twisted churn of emotion inside she could not sort through fast enough, "Of course I take it seriously but like I told Gordon, you can't very well catch a fish without bait, now can you? The only way to fix the problem is to catch him at it and I'm pretty confident I can avoid him long enough to do that. He hasn't gotten me yet."

"' ** _Yet_** ' is the key, Brooke!" His voice got louder but not deeper, meaning it was more Harvey than not. "If Ivy and Harley hadn't stepped in, you'd be..." He hesitated like he almost stopped himself from bringing it up, but to drive the point home he finished anyway, "like your parents. On ice!"

She expected that comparison just like she expected the sun to rise and expected him to visit her after the attempt on her. Moreover, she knew where Harvey spent his time that night and she had a feeling he had been the one to tip off Harley, Ivy, and probably by proxy, Joker. He had been robbing the bank Dagget owned during the attack on her. No wonder the calls for backup went unheeded. They were busy trying to hold onto all that dirty money they had inside a nice big vault.

Expecting it did not mean it did not hurt. Some wounds would never heal even in thousands of years. The guilt had never once gone away, it hummed constantly in her veins like a marching band that could never sleep. It devoured her as a Wayne or as a Bat and it always would be that gaping open would she tried to ignore even though it let in more and more infection to poison her blood. She had a lot of wounds like those, infection was something she learned to live with since she was eight years old.

She got up and strolled to her little corner bar to get them both a drink. When she handed the tumbler over he took it without hesitation. No doubt he needed it as much as she did, though hers had more than the allotted ice to water it down, unlike his. She doubted he would notice that detail with any significance.

Harvey swirled the glass in irritation, probably stressing the crystal with his grip, still glaring, "You think you don't keep to a schedule? You are easy to track and any first-time thug could follow you home from work! You're predictable! How do you think that night would have gone if I hadn't been able to reach Harley? Do you know how easy it would be to just sneak up behind you some night and slit your throat? Steal your car for good measure and dump you into a ditch?"

Harder than he might expect, she would say, but he did not know that.

And did he actually know Joker tagged along on the rescue mission? Would it both him? How angry would it make him if he found out Joker helped on one of his many crazy whims? Best not to find out.

"You watching me, Harv?" She smirked, lifting her glass in salute.

He frowned at her just a bit harder, "Someone has to when you set yourself up to get killed! You turned down police protection, meager as that might be."

She arched a brow, leaning back on the desk to regard him, "You really were keeping track, huh?" then she leaned forward again, letting her expression drift away from her usual masks, letting something more real shine free of the face everyone knew to expect from her, "You mad at me?"

That anger drained a little in a shoulder slumping sigh, "Not mad, just worried. I don't wanna see you get hurt."

Brooke decided to venture a little farther onto thin ice, "I heard you are partly to thank for my continued survival. I heard that if those men hadn't been very busy when the guys in the garage called for backup, I might be greasepaint."

Harvey took a deep drink, "News does travel fast, but I guess that's no surprise seeing as how even the Bat let my people have free reign on Dagget."

Yeah, there was that.

Brooke did frown then, hunching her shoulders farther in, "So you were doing it for me?" She did not absolutely know how to feel about that, not when faced head-on with it. Suspecting it was one thing but to hear it confirmed made her feel a wide mix of grateful and guilty.

He shrugged without much energy, like he was tired, "Got more than just money out of it like I planned. I got some nice fat evidence, stuff that could even hold up in court, illegally obtained or not."

Brooke stared him in the eyes, trying to see down as far as she could to the man she knew was still in there, her friend, "You did that for me?" She did not know how to feel about it but she was feeling something, definitely something.

He reached up and nudged her jaw gently with his knuckles in a playful punch that resulted in no pain, "Why wouldn't I?"

Why wouldn't he, a criminal most people thought was beyond saving? Why wouldn't he help a rich, stuck up, do-gooder rather than let her burn? If he was so far gone why not do more than let her drown in her own choices, why not hold her under and collect the money? If there was no hope for him, for any of them really, why not hand her over and steal her material possessions before anyone else could grab them? Because... no one was a lost cause, that's why. This proved what she always believed even if she had come close to forgetting it at times. They were sick but they weren't monsters, not yet. Gordon told her once that she couldn't save everyone, and she knew he was right, understood what he meant, but she could never accept it.

For some moderately unknown reason, her eyes began to sting and blur over. "Have you always been playing my guardian angel in the shadows, Harvey? Have you been holding my hand all these years and I never noticed?"

He stared at her, emotions running wild and fast behind his eyes until he finally looked away, "I don't really know." And it sounds like the truth.

Brooke moved, nearly throwing herself forward, wedging herself in the chair with him, arms wound tight around his neck while she hid her face under his ear. "Maybe you don't... but I think I might."

He was stiff in her hold for around five minutes but he thawed one tense muscle at a time until he awkwardly pats her back with one hand. Eventually, he ended up hugging her back, hesitantly rubbing her scalp with his fingertips as he cradled her head in his enormous palm. He was warm and solid-soft just like she remembered him, a piece of the memories just as good in the now as in the then. She felt dwarfed by him most of the time, even dwarfed by his lost potential. He was better than she ever had been, with a bigger heart and better moral compass. He talked big and acted tough but she always had known the goodness under the lawyer. She knew why he went into law in the first place, remembered how he once told her he wanted to make a place children could walk the streets without fear, where no one else lost everything in Crime Alley. Once upon a time, he was Gotham's white knight in shining armor. She still wanted to believe in her old friend, that lost light buried under ash and destruction.

She could not offer him words to express how keen his loss was or how much she wanted him back. Actions had always been more her way of expression. She had lots of words but she could never get them onto her tongue, not for him or anyone else. Words, real ones that meant something, were her greatest failing as far as expression. Considering how many times she lost someone, she should be wise enough to know she should tell the ones she could reach how much they meant to her while she had the opportunity, but it never worked that way. She could do very little without one of her masks and real emotions did not fall under either mask.

Harvey was one of those wounds she accumulated, one of those infected bleeding parts of her that she learned to live with. He was alive but no less a loss, almost as much as if he had been stripped away by death. It was a different sort of death but it took him from her all the same, parading him around just out of her reach.

She would never be without the guilt, it was part of her and she would not know what to do if it vanished. She did not want it to go away because it helped her, grounded her, held her accountable. If she never forgot her failures she might be less likely to make the same mistakes. Perhaps the guilt would ensure she saved more and that would be worth it in some way.

Guilt makes her suffer and Batwoman needs Brooke to suffer because Batwoman punishes those that do wrong. Batwoman and Brooke have both done wrong, failed, made mistakes, and guilt is its own prison, one they both locked themselves within to sever time for all wrongs. Failing Harvey was one of her wrongs, a wound as deep as her parent's death.

They told her it was not her fault when she was eight but she believed it no more then than she does over anything that has happened since.

"You're still my best friend, Harv. I miss you!"

He hugged her just a little tighter, edging toward crushing her, but she did not mind. When he decided it was time to leave she held onto him as long as he let her. Harvey kissed her forehead, squeezing her shoulders once before he opened the office door. He promised he would see her around, and that was too true, more than he would probably ever know. It made it sting that much more when he walked out of Brooke's office where Batwoman would now have to face him in a very different capacity to an old friend.

Some days later, when one of Dagget's guns singled in on Harvey, Batwoman took four bullets to the chest plate without even thinking about her unprotected back while she shielded Two-Face. The dents and scratches in the bat emblem in the armor might have been symbolic to something but she could not dwell too much, not when she was too busy letting a batarang crash into the shooter's temple. He didn't try to kill her, to stab her in the back, close and up through the weaknesses of the armor he probably knew of after so many years. The look that passed between them was indistinguishable in meaning, but it meant too many things, things neither were ready to examine. She let him go. He raced away without a parting shot and she glided off to her supply of painkillers.

* * *

After the case was wrapped up nicely with Dagget and his people behind bars for however long it lasted, Brooke was sipping coffee calmly in the Commissioner's musty office. Her fine pantsuit looked out of place among so many cheat relics of GCPD glory days long gone. The chair creaked from too much use and failing wood glue. Still, she sat as primly as a queen in the chair while Gordon and a few of his people explained their findings, not realizing, of course, that she knew every detail already. She nodded along demurely and utterly unaffected by the ordeal because she was far too much of a golden child to be brought down by silly things like contract hits gone wrong. She was too rich and beautiful to die.

After the others left and it was only Jim left in the room she allowed herself to thaw considerably into something of a decidedly more real nature.

He stared at her like he wanted dearly to peal her apart just to find the real girl under it all. He was too smart to believe the girl they had been staring at the last hour had been the same person he once pulled out of a bloody scene. "I know you know more than you let on." He told her simply, and her answer was a raised brow, "I know Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Two-face, and even Joker and Riddler were helping you stay alive."

She set the coffee cup down on his desk carefully, a steely resigned wariness in her posture, "I never asked them to."

"I know." He said it almost sadly, defeated and world-weary. He knew deep under his skin that she would no more ask for help than Batwoman would. His eyes wrinkled more at the edges with the way his mouth thinned to accentuate the laugh lines; probably not from laughter; to showcase his age. He knew a death wish when he saw it, watched it fester in her over the years in her reckless displays most people simply called wild irresponsibility. People called her entitled and foolish, he called it an expression of anguish that still had not healed from a kid he always knew wished she died the same night her parents did. "Can you answer me one question?"

She only hesitated a moment, though she did stand as if that would prepare her to bolt if needed, "Sure, Jim, what is it?"

His shoulders rose in a deep sigh, his hands shoved into his pockets, "How on earth did you do it? If you wanted to, I bet you could even get the Joker to listen to you. They are more human when they are around you than I've ever seen any of them. How did you win them all over?"

She regarded him for a long moment, considering, before she smiled sheepishly and shrugged, "It was easy, really." Her eyes darted to the floor a moment before she turned to give him her profile, ready to walk out the door, "I just went insane." He expected her to leave with that less than comforting imparting of wisdom, but she lingered, teetering on the doorstep like she does not want to say something, "I think... it was because I went insane with them. When I was out of my mind I stopped seeing monsters or criminals, all I could see was the people."

That time she did leave but he felt no less disquieted. Maybe he never should have asked. Or maybe he needed to go a little crazy for some perspective too. Maybe everyone in Gotham saw monsters so often they forgot to see people. Spend long enough looking for monsters and that would be what you found. Look for people and you would find those too. Just maybe, if they could all take anything away from the whole thing, it was that. Or maybe he was just getting old.

* * *

Note: I think I'm ending this round here. Honestly, I'll probably pick it up again at some point, in some way or other. I've enjoyed it too much not to probably play with again.

What started as me writing because I couldn't sleep kind of turned into an exploration of these characters and their humanity. For the villains, their human side of the monsters. For Brooke, kind of the human side of her hero, and all the tie-in stuff that goes into that big bundle of issues.


End file.
